


if you're searching for forever

by elizaham8957



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anyways, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, and just pretending everything happens the same, basically everything is the same except Allison is alive, but also it's happy no one dies, except for Monroe because she's the worst, not really fluff but not really angst, post 6b, stydia is KINDA background but not really because I'm a sucker for stydia, the end is fluffy actually so i guess, we're gracefully ignoring the implications Allison being alive would have on the plots of s4-6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 16:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12461985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaham8957/pseuds/elizaham8957
Summary: Sometimes, Scott wonders morbidly what their lives would be like without Allison in them.What would have happened, if she hadn’t turned a little to the side at the last moment, if the sword had gone straight through her heart instead of narrowly missing her lung? How would their lives have looked if she’d bled out on the concrete? If their week-long vigil had taken place in a graveyard instead of beside her hospital bed?And then the Anuk-ite shows him, and he doesn’t have to wonder anymore.





	if you're searching for forever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Magicath17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magicath17/gifts).



> Hey y'all. Sorry for the departure from pure Stydia fluff, but this one's for my sister, who wanted me to write her a post 6b fic about Scott and Allison. I therefore wrote her two fics, one of which is WAY sadder. (this one's not the sad one, for the record, but if you like angst I just posted that one too.) 
> 
> We're operating under the assumption here that when Kira went back to the Skinwalkers, she and Scott broke up because they didn't know how long it would take for her to train with them. That was the main thing that bugged me about Scolia in 6b, so... we're going with that. This au is also that literally everything else is exactly the same as on the show, except Allison's been alive the whole time. We're totally ignoring how her being alive would affect the plots of season 4 through 6 and just GOIN with it. So, I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> I'm stilesssolo on tumblr and twitter if you ever wanna chat. I hope you like it!

Sometimes, Scott wonders morbidly what their lives would be like without Allison in them.

What would have happened, if she hadn’t turned a little to the side at the last moment, if the sword had gone straight through her heart instead of narrowly missing her lung? How would their lives have looked if she’d bled out on the concrete? If their week-long vigil had taken place in a graveyard instead of beside her hospital bed?

Scott wonders what the pack would look like. If Isaac would have been able to stay, or if he would have run away to lick his wounds over a girl he had just begun to love. He wonders how Lydia would have kept going, without her best friend in her life; if she would be as close to the other girls as she is now, or if she would have felt guilty befriending Kira and Malia after losing the first real friend she’d had. He wonders if Stiles would have shut them all out, feeling as if Allison’s death was his fault. The aftermath of the nogitsune was bad enough— Scott can’t imagine what Stiles’s recovery would have looked like if he thought he had Allison’s blood on his hands too. Scott wonders if he would have ever gotten together with Kira, or if the guilt of finding comfort in someone else would have eaten him alive, if Allison’s last words were that she would always love him. He wonders how many times they would have almost died themselves if Allison wasn’t there to save them.

And then the Anuk-ite shows him, and he doesn’t have to wonder anymore.

He can see Allison take her last, shuddering breath, can hear her heartbeat fade out, can sense her body go still in his arms. He feels like he’s watching someone else’s life when he hears the sobs escape his mouth, as Allison dies on the cold pavement, her blood mixing with the dirt. He can feel his desperation as he tries to take her pain and discovers that he can’t take the pain from someone already gone.

He wants more than anything to open his eyes, to see that Allison is alive across the room, bow in hand as she fights alongside their friends. Their _pack._ But Scott knows that’s what the Anuk-ite wants, so instead, he digs his claws into his eyeballs, screams as the hot blood runs down his face, because his greatest fear is watching his friends die because of _him,_ and he will _not_ be the reason that they die today.

It all works out in the end— Stiles and Lydia show up just in time and shatter the Anuk-ite with mountain ash. Isaac and Malia and Derek unfreeze, and Allison shoots an arrow straight through Monroe’s heart before she can kill Ethan and Jackson. “I didn’t want to,” she admits later, her voice quiet. “But she was going to kill them. She wants innocent people dead for no reason other than they’re different.” Allison swallows, looking down. “My family used to be like that. I want to make sure that never happens again.”

But even if the fight is over, Scott still can’t focus enough to make his eyes heal. Stiles is hovering next to him, Derek by his side, he can sense, and they try to calm him down, reassure him everything’s over, but it won’t work. The sight of Allison dead, of his pack broken and stricken with sorrow— it is burned into his memory, and he can’t think of anything else.

“Scott?” he hears, and it’s _her_ voice; _Allison’s_ voice. It should reassure him, make him more centered, but instead it just amplifies his vision. She could have died that night, this night, a thousand other times. And it’s his fault for dragging her into this world.

“What happened to your eyes?” Allison asks, voice panicked, followed by the shuffling of footsteps as Stiles moves out of the way, letting Allison kneel in front of him. Scott shakes his head apologetically. “I had to,” he tells her, not adding the reason he wanted so badly to open his eyes was to make sure she was still alive. “I’m sorry.”

“Scott, you have to heal,” Derek tells him, but Scott’s heartbeat is still too fast, his breathing too shallow, his pulse too rapid. “If your eyes stay like this much longer, the damage is gonna be permanent.”

“Come on, Scott, concentrate,” Stiles begs, his voice desperate.

“I’m trying,” Scott says frantically, _trying_ to focus. But he can’t get the image out of his head. He feels like he’s back at Eichen House, Allison’s broken body cradled in his arms, her blood coating his fingers, but this time, she’s not waking up. “It’s not working. I can’t focus.”

“Scott, yes you can,” Allison says, and he feels hands on either side of his face, gentle yet determined. “Scott, focus on me, okay?” she asks. “Listen to my voice. You have to heal.”

“You died,” he gasps, his heart still pounding, and the Anuk-ite is gone, he knows, but Scott has never felt so afraid. “You died, and it’s my fault.”

 _“No,_ Scott,” Allison insists. “I’m okay, and it was _not_ your fault, what happened there. Okay? Just focus, Scott. You have to heal.”

“I can’t, I can’t do it,” he mutters, heart hammering, breath growing shallower. “I can’t, Allison.”

“Come on, Scott,” Isaac says, and Scott is suddenly aware that the whole pack is here— even if he can’t see them, he can _feel_ them. He can sense the fear rolling off Isaac, can hear Stiles’s thundering heart and the panic coming off Malia, and he can smell some emotion from Lydia, can sense she’s gripping Stiles’s hand like a lifeline when she says, “Allison, kiss him.”

“What?” he hears Allison respond, but Scott still can’t focus. The world around him is too loud, the crushing feeling of residual fear left over from the Anuk-ite stifling, and what if he can’t focus, what if he can’t heal, how can he protect people if he can’t see—

“Trust me,” Lydia says, her voice urgent. Scott dimly registers the sounds of his pounding heart before Allison’s lips are on his, and all the noise, all the chaos fades out. Scott’s heartbeat steadies, his pulse slows, because even now when they have been separated for two years, Allison has always been his anchor, in some way.

When she pulls away from him, his eyes burn, and then the room comes back into hazy focus.

“Scott?” Allison asks with baited breath, nervously worrying her lip, and Scott blinks as her face becomes clearer and clearer with each passing second.

He blinks at her, his eyes healed, and she grins, leaning forward and seizing him in her arms. Allison’s body is warm against his, and he can hear her heartbeat, feel it pounding fast against his skin.

She pulls away a second later, and the relief in her eyes in tangible. That’s the overwhelming scent of the room— everyone is _relieved._ Stiles’s shoulders relax, his expression losing all its tension and relief flooding his face. Isaac lets out a huge breath, Malia rocks back on her heels, tipping her head back, and Derek sighs, resting one hand heavily on Scott’s shoulder.

“How did you know that would work?” Allison asks Lydia, but Lydia doesn’t respond— she’s too busy staring at Stiles. They’re holding hands like their lives depend on it, but they’re doing that _thing_ they always do; Stiles looks at Lydia with the softest, most open expression Scott had ever seen, and Lydia gives him a little smile, pushing her lips together. They’re both staring at each other like they’re the only thing in the universe, completely lost in each other’s gaze.

Scott looks away from Stiles and Lydia and meets Allison’s eyes again, and she’s looking at him in a similar way. He feels his heart speed up again, but this time, it’s not because of fear.

She goes home with him afterwards, climbing out of the back of the Jeep with him and Isaac in front of his house. Lydia smiles softly at them from the front seat, her hand still entwined with Stiles’s over the center console. Scott muses that he hasn’t seen Lydia so at ease since before Stiles left. They truly are a perfect combination, balancing each other out, making each other stronger. Scott catches Stiles’s eye as he walks up the driveway, and the shine in his best friend’s eyes lets him know that he’s thinking the same thing.

Isaac retreats to his room immediately, bidding both Scott and Allison goodnight. He and Allison have been broken up long enough at this point that it’s not awkward between them anymore, which Scott is grateful for.

“Can we talk?” Allison asks hesitantly, and the look in her eyes is something Scott has never seen before. He nods wordlessly, ushering her into his bedroom, sitting next to her when she perches on the end of his bed.

“Scott,” she says, looking at him. “I just— wanted to talk about earlier.”

“It’s okay,” he says automatically, shaking his head. “I know that you just kissed me because—”

“No,” Allison says, shaking her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “Not that,” she continues, glancing at his hands before gently taking one in hers, hesitantly, apprehensively. “You know—” she pauses, looking away. “It’s not your fault, what happened,” she says, meeting his eyes again. “It’s not your fault that I almost died.”

“How?” he asks. “Allison, how is it not my fault? I put you in danger. And I just held you while you bled out. If Isaac hadn’t called 911…  If you had died—”

“But I didn’t,” she assures him, squeezing his hand. “I’m here. And I made my own decision. To protect my friends. My _pack.”_

“It’s what it showed me,” Scott tells her, meeting her eyes, and something shifts in her gaze. “The Anuk-ite. It showed me that night, but you didn’t keep breathing. You died in my arms, and I… Allison, if that really happened—”

“It didn’t,” she assures him again. “I’m here, and I’m okay.”

“I know,” he tells her. “But just… the thought of you _not_ being here… it scared me so much.”

There’s something in her eyes, a look that seems like it’s from a past life. She used to look at him like that years ago, when they were sixteen and stupidly in love. It’s the same, but it’s also completely new, because they’re different people now. They’ve loved different people, been through endless trial and heartbreak, and Scott has never felt more different from his sixteen year old self than he does now. But the look Allison is giving him— this feels familiar, as if somehow, they were always supposed to make it back to this point.

Before he can really register what’s going on, she’s leaning into him, his hand drifting up to cup her cheek. She just rests her forehead against his for a second, and he breathes her in, his heart beating frantically, and he can hear Allison’s hammering in her chest at the same rhythm.

Finally, she closes the distance between them, and when he kisses her, softly and hesitantly, it somehow feels like both nothing and everything has changed.

They pull away a moment later, and Allison just stares at him, her breath shallow and her eyes clear. They just hover there, breathing each other in, before they both lean in simultaneously, their lips colliding in a way that’s so familiar but still so new to Scott.

Kissing Allison feels like the most natural thing in the world, like somehow, he has been waiting for this moment his whole life. Her lips move against his determinedly, and Scott sighs into her mouth, his hands cupping her cheeks, hers pressed against his chest. He’s not quite sure how they end up tangled together in his bed, most of their clothing discarded on the floor, but his hands roam over her, re-memorizing every inch of her body, committing it all to memory again. Scott maps her skin with his lips, lingering on the rough scar from where that sword had almost stolen her from their lives. Allison sighs into his touch, her hands carding through his hair, and he slides up her body, bracing himself above her as he leans down and kisses her again.

In the morning, he wakes up to find her arms still wrapped around him, head buried in his neck, and he can’t help feeling this is how it is supposed to be. That after everything, he was right: they found their way back to each other.

He has a few missed texts from Stiles waiting on his phone, and when Scott mentions that Allison is still with him, Stiles’s response is immediate.

Allison blinks sleepily as he puts his phone back on his bedside table, and Scott can’t help but smile as she pushes her hair out of her face.

“Hey,” Scott says, his voice soft as Allison sits up, clutching his sheets to her chest. “Uh… how are you?” He’s not really sure if they should talk about last night. Realistically, he knows there are probably a thousand logistics they need to figure out, but being here with Allison now kind of makes all that seem inconsequential. It should be awkward, this moment between them, but it’s just sort of… natural.

“Okay,” Allison says. “Glad that everything with Monroe is over.”

“Me too,” Scott says, shifting on the bed, not sure if she wants him to move closer. “Uh, about last night—” he starts, but Allison cuts him off, moving closer to him and capturing his lips with hers. He sighs into her, one hand sinking into her hair, breathing in her sweet scent, and he realizes he doesn’t really need to ask that question anymore.

“Stiles and Lydia are going to get breakfast,” he tells her, his eyes still closed, their foreheads pressed together. “They wanted to know if we wanted to come too.”

“Sure,” Allison says, nudging her nose against his, and when he opens his eyes, she’s biting her lip, smiling at him shyly. He suddenly feels like he’s sixteen again, completely wrapped up in Allison.

They ride Scott’s dirt bike to the café, because Stiles still has the Jeep. Stiles and Lydia are already sitting in a booth when they get there, hidden away in a corner, and Lydia’s side is tucked into Stiles, his arm slung over her shoulders, their hands linked together above the table. Scott and Allison scoot into the seat across from them, and Scott doesn’t miss the quizzical look from his best friend, like Stiles is trying to figure out exactly what is going on with him and Allison. He sort of shrugs his shoulders, but then Allison takes his hand under the table, entwining their fingers, and he smiles at her softly in a way that he is certain answers all of Stiles’s questions.

They chat while they wait for their food, talking about normal things like normal teenagers. Stiles describes his internship in full detail, Lydia tells them about the classes she registered for— it’s a nice change, to get to act like eighteen year olds and not soldiers in a war.

 _“Stiles,”_ Lydia reprimands as he steals some of her waffle, but the look in her eyes is soft, overflowing with affection. Scott glances at Allison, catching her eye as she takes another bite of her pancakes, and he thinks he’s probably looking at her the same way.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I can’t take this anymore,” Stiles says, putting down his fork. He fixes Scott with a scrutinizing glare, glancing back and forth between Allison and him, his eyes lingering on their shoulders, pressed together. “You two are acting super clingy, and I don’t have super hearing, and I can’t smell your emotions, so I just have to ask,” he continues. “Are you back together now?”

“Stiles,” Lydia groans, dropping her head onto his shoulder. “You are _not_ supposed to ask that.”

“Why not?” he asks, expression incredulous. “They’re literally our best friends. How come I’m not allowed to ask them that?”

Scott isn’t really listening as Lydia reprimands her boyfriend again, because he’s looking at Allison, his eyes caught in hers. There’s a million different stories behind them now; they’ve seen even more pain and death and watched a hundred more battles unfurl before them, but they’re the same eyes that he fell in love with immediately. The same eyes that blinked in surprise when he offered her a pen. The same eyes that had been filled with tears when she had hit that dog with her car and brought it to the animal clinic. The same eyes that had seen him as a werewolf and had loved him still.

Scott has always loved Allison in one way or another— whether as a girlfriend or a best friend, as a  member of his pack or as his anchor. But right now, he’s starting to see that his love for her has come full circle. He remembers when she had broken up with him the second time, he had told her he knew they would be together, and she had laughed, disbelieving. For a while Scott had stopped believing too. He had been in love with Kira, and he had learned to be Allison’s friend, and he had forgotten about his declaration that night, in the aftermath of the battle with Gerard. But looking at her now, her expression soft, her eyes open and expressive— Scott sort of feels like this was meant to be. Something sort of like fate.

 _“There’s no such thing as fate,”_ Allison had said, scoffing. Even now, Scott remembers his answer: “ _There’s no such thing as werewolves.”_ But there is such thing, they both know, and maybe a little meant-to-be is a good thing. Scott would like something to be certain in this ever-changing, dark and dangerous world. He might not have an answer to Stiles’s question, and he doesn’t exactly know what will happen tomorrow. But looking at the girl in front of him right now, he is certain of one thing— he is certain that he is in love with her. He can hear Allison’s heartbeat, see the same sentiment in her eyes, and when she squeezes his hand underneath the table, he is sure she loves him back.

For now, Scott thinks that’s enough.


End file.
